Revenge on Mr Kreacher
by Siriuslyfun19212
Summary: A short little one-shot about how Harry (and a few others) killed Kreacher. It's hilarious, I promise!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all that you recognise.

Author Note: This is extremely short, but also extremely funny. The part about the pie just sort of came to me because at school, we're selling pies for a fundraiser.

Anyway, read on!

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THE GREAT, GREAT LAND OF PROLOUGENESS.

Harry was pissed off.

Yes, after he finally stopped blaming himself over Sirius' death, he figured out one thing.

Revenge on the damn house-elf that caused it all.

Kreacher, was a dead, dead house-elf.

Harry had been plotting on how he was going to kill Kreacher, and had been for quite a while now.

Decapitation, burning, shock, Avada Kedavra, manipulating it to wander into Snape's underwear drawer.

They all had their possibilities.

He already knew when he was going to do it—during the time he was at Grimmauld place that summer.

But the how part was going to need some planning....

CHAPTER ONE: BE PREPARED, MUAHAHAHA.

"BOY! Get down here now and leave with your freakish little—ouch! Your uh—uh—guardians." Called Uncle Vernon from downstairs.

Harry opened the door, and shoved his trunk into the hallway. Everything was in the trunk; he had sent Hedwig ahead of him.

He walked out and slammed the door for effect, and then he shoved the trunk down the stairs.

It clunked with every stair it hit.

After the trunk had successfully hit the bottom, Harry followed.

Down in the living room, stood Mad-Eye Moody, and Tonks. Tonks had waist-length violet hair with sky-blue and white streaks.

"Hey Moody, Tonks."

"Potter." Regarded Moody, looking at him.

"Harry." Said Tonks, looking at him also.

Harry grinned and looked at his—unfortunately—uncle.

"Well, Uncle Vernon, Mr. Moody and Miss Tonks and I are going to go to the place we're staying at. Should we fly or should we take your fireplace?"

Uncle Vernon glared, while Moody and Tonks held back sniggers.

"You will do anything BUT take our fireplace, you wrenched little boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, his face now turning a disgusting shade of puce magenta.

"Love you too, bitch." Said Harry sarcastically before lugging his trunk outside.

Moody and Tonks followed him outside, but not before flipping off Uncle Vernon.

When Harry walked outside, he was met with the sight of a hard-back chair.

"It's the portkey we'll be taking. It's going to be going off in about a minute, so gather round it." Said Tonks, as she and Moody walked over to it.

They all three crowded around the chair, grabbed onto it, and waited for the familiar tug about the navel to signal the taking.

When it came, Harry yelled out to the Dursley's.

"SHO LONG, SHUCKERS!"

They landed with a painful THUD on the grass outside Grimmauld Place several seconds later, trunk, chair and all.

"Well, here we are. Think about it Harry." Said Tonks, looking proudly at the spot between numbers eleven and thirteen.

Harry thought, and soon enough the house of Number twelve appeared out of nowhere.

"Let's go in, shall we?" asked Moody.

They grabbed their things, banished the chair, and walked in.

When the doors opened, Harry peered inside, with a grim little smile on his face.

Ron and Hermione came running in from the Living Room at that exact moment.

"Harry!" they both yelled. They ran over and hugged him. Harry hugged them back. When they let go, they noticed the smile.

"Harry, what are you thinking about?" asked Ron nervously. He had fears that Harry had lost it.

"Shhh, I can't be bothered. Here, take my wand so I can't break the law—with my wand. Now, time for action." And with that, he ran up the stairs, and into the attic, where he found Kreacher, cackling maddly.

"KREACHER!" Harry yelled triumphantly, before he ran towards Kreacher, hands outstretched like some sort of Zombie.

Kreacher looked up bewilderedly, before he screamed—girlishly—and started running out the way Harry came.

"Oh, no you don't you little flea-infested pond-dwelling scum ball!" he ran out to Kreacher, and he started chasing Kreacher around the house.

Withing fifteen minutes, it wasn't an odd sight to see Harry chasing Kreacher, Harry cackling maddly, Kreacher screaming—girlishly.

Within minutes, actually, the entire house was joining him.

They all started a warrior chant.

"DIE KREACHER, DIE KREACHER, DIE KREACHER!" even Snape was involved.

"Kreacher do no harm! Kreacher a good house elf! Me good boy!"

"NO! Kreacher evil demon man! He must die!" and they attacked. They stunned him, tied him up, then brought him out, and tied him to a stake that just magically appeared there.

They then burned him at the stake.

"Muahahahahahaha!" they cackled viciously.

After five minutes or so, the cackling got old.

Crickets.

"Who's up for pie?" asked Mrs. Weasley. Everybody started muttering in agreement and they all walked inside for some pie.


End file.
